


Vexation Without Explanation

by carmenta



Series: Change of Times [1]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - Rice
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-01
Updated: 1999-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta





	Vexation Without Explanation

The flame of the single candle was casting dancing shadows on the wall, shadows that seemed to be fantastic, irrational images with a life of their own. Candlelight was so vivid, it enchanted the surrounding darkness, gave it a certain mystic atmosphere. The smell of burning wax was pleasant, as was the sight of the candle that grew smaller and smaller, only slowly; it was inevitable that once all the wax was burned, the flame would grow dim and finally go out.

I liked to watch the single spark of light. So small, so insignificant, and nevertheless it could set a building, even a town afire if it was nourished. Beautiful, the way it trembled when my breath disturbed the air; so simple, yet holding such a fascination. But despite all beauty it was still transient, the smallest breeze would extinguish the warmth, the light. And only darkness would remain.

A knock at the door awakened me from my musings; the sweet moments my mind had been allowed to drift freely were over, as everything came to an end. Sighing, I reached for the quill and a sheet of paper, quickly wrote a few lines. No need to let the others know that I had been dreaming, reflecting on the passing of beauty instead of doing my duty in governing the coven. Sometimes I was not sure if the power I had over this flock was worth the life I led; no time to rest, to relax, a constant tension that could never be released. In more than three centuries I had never gone to sleep in the ground, as so many of us had; I had wanted to wait for the right moment, but it had never come.

Another knock, a little impatient this time. What did they want now? It had better been something important, it was a rule that I was not to be disturbed in my cell if my presence was not required immediately.

"Enter," I said, my voice controlled and calm as usual; never show any emotion, for it can be used as a weapon against you. The door opened, and Isabella came in slowly, careful not to look at my face, a habit she had never been able to let go, and which could be annoying sometimes. "What do you want?" She blinked, clearing her throat.

"A messenger has arrived."

"And you are not able to converse with him alone?" Frowning, I shook my head in disapproval.  
Isabella was one in a seemingly endless row of assistants and advisors I had chosen after my dear Allesandra had left to finally rule her own coven. She had to do this through Amadeo, who had had no idea what the real reason for sending him to Paris was at the time he had gone there. Maybe he had realized now that he was a mere tool of her, a marionette whose strings came together in her hands. Clever Allesandra, she was handling the power that I had given to her in form of the coven with ease and a perfection that was unrivalled by the other flocks that were under the control of Rome. It had probably been the best decision of my entire life to send her to France after the master of the Parisian coven had gone into the fire, for it had turned the former opposer of Rome into a willing follower who obeyed my commands.

But in sending Allesandra to the north I had lost a helper whose value I had never really appreciated until she left. She had been my advisor, my assistant. And my friend, perhaps the only true friend I ever had in the coven. Being the master automatically brings loneliness, it is necessary to make everybody fear you if you want to stay in control. And so I had tried to find a replacement for her, but without success. Some of her successors were intelligent enough to satisfy me, but the majority simply couldn′t make a decision themselves. But one thing they all had in common: never did they last for longer than a decade until they couldn′t handle the stress anymore, and went mad or faced the dawn.

Isabella was the best I had found until now; though she was far from the perfection I had known from Allesandra and also Amadeo. She made the most foolish mistakes from time to time, but she could be trusted to rule the coven for a short time if I had to take the young ones to attack a rouge to cool their temper. They never realized that hardly ever they managed to actually kill their prey, it was enough for them to feel superior. Blind fools, so easy to control.

"He brought a rather... disturbing message from Paris, I thought you would want to question him yourself." A message from Paris?

"Send him in, I will talk to him here." She nodded and left, leaving me to my thoughts. What had happened in France? The last letters I had received from Allesandra and Amadeo had been reassuring, no indications that something important was about to happen. Strange, very strange. Maybe the coven had been attacked by a Child of the Millennia? No, that was unlikely, they hardly ever did such reckless things. Besides no ancient one was in France at the moment, I would have known if one had settled there. They avoided the covens, those groups of what must seem children to them. How did it feel to be that old, to see the centuries pass?

Isabella returned, followed by another vampire; a young man, he could not have been older than twenty when he had been made. A beautiful creature, this one, with brown hair he had tied with a black ribbon, gray eyes that tried to avoid looking into mine. For a moment I wondered if he was the fledgling of Allesandra or Amadeo, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Allesandra hadn′t made a fledgling for more than a century, she was too strong to still work the Dark Trick. And Amadeo... seldom the coven masters made vampires themselves, for such fledglings often became a source of revolution, of danger. They thought that they could succeed their maker, as mortal descendants of kings and lords did; very often the master had to destroy his own children.

I beckoned Isabella, who was turning to leave already, that she should stay, and looked at the messenger, which made him radiate nervousness, a feeling I often caused in the younger ones. Useful most of the time, but it could also be very annoying, especially in situations like this, when I did not want to waste time with unnecessary admiration.

"Who are you?" I asked him, putting enough disapproval into my voice to let him know that he should have introduced himself. "And who has sent you here?"

"My name is Jacques, monsieur," he answered. "Armand has ordered that I should bring his message to you." Armand... I still had to get used to Amadeo′s new name. Not really new, he had changed it nearly two centuries ago; but to me he would always be Amadeo. French is such an ugly language.

"Jacques," I repeated, carefully pronouncing every syllable, as if I were tasting the name. "I shall remember you. So, what does... Armand have to say that is so unusual that it unsettles my helper in such a way?" I looked at Isabella, who was standing behind and at the right of the French vampire. She had been staring at him, probably marveling at his looks; I didn′t bother to read her mind over such trivialities. When she noticed me she reluctantly met my eyes, a guilty expression on her face. What a difference to Allesandra, never had she been afraid of doing what she pleased. If she had wanted to look at the handsome Jacques, she would have ignored my gaze.

"Armand bids you greetings and hopes that you and your coven will always be-" I interrupted him with a dismissive gesture of my hand.

"Forget the polite formalities. What does he have to say? My time is limited." If Jacques had not been nervous before, now he certainly was. He cleared his throat, entwined his fingers, shuffled his feet; I regretted my words a little, but then again it was expected of me to be harsh. Isabella was flustered as well, it was obvious that she was fond of this young one. For a moment I considered sending her out of the room, but she could learn from this.

"I have asked you a question, Giacomo." Yes, the Italian version of his name definitely sounded better. He started, his eyes dark with tension, concentrating on what he had to say.

"Armand bade me to tell you that he fears that Allesandra has gone mad."

Exhale slowly. Don′t show the shock. Don′t do anything you wouldn′t do if he had told you that nothing had happened at all. Emotions are not allowed, not here, not now. First finish this, then there will be time to think.

Isabella was looking at me now, meeting my eyes, careful not to miss the slightest reaction I showed. I assumed that she wanted to have an indication how she should react to this news, if she should be surprised, or indifferent. What was Allesandra to her but a name of ages past? A relic from the beginning of the Children of Darkness, bound to go the way every vampire has to go. The Devil called his children home, everybody knew this.

"Thank you. Is that all you have to say?" I fought to keep my voice calm. Jacques nodded, and took an envelope out of his torn, dirty coat.

"Eleni gave this to me, she-" I rose my hand, silencing him.

"Who is Eleni? And is this of any importance?" Jacques blinked nervously, blushing a little.

"I- I don′t know. She told me to make sure you got this letter-"

"Does Armand know of this? Has he allowed it?" I rose slowly, eyes locked on his face, beckoning Isabella to move away from him. She hurried to follow my silent order, leaving him standing alone before me. Crossing my arms behind my back, I circled him slowly. He didn′t dare to move his head when I left his vision and finally stopped behind him. Blood sweat trickling on his neck, I could see it clearly.

"Answer my question", the words were barely audible, but I had found out long ago that the more silent I spoke, the more unsettling my voice could be. Jacques shifted nervously, he even trembled slightly. I smiled, knowing that he didn′t see that I enjoyed the effect I had on him.

"Armand doesn′t know, at least I don′t think so." The words were coming out of his mouth fast, he wished this to end as soon as possible. I shook my head; no nerves, the young ones. No stamina. It was not surprising at all that covens broke apart everywhere.

"So this Eleni sends messages behind his back?"

"Oui."

"Use a language everybody understands."

"Ye- ita est. Litterae Eleni missus est, quae Armand non sapiens." Hearing him talk in Latin was even worse than his accented Italian. "Iussit aliquem quae Romam ferre tibique tradere."

"Give it to me then." Turning slowly to face me, he handed me the letter. "Now leave. Isabella, you will stay with him tonight. Hunt, then return immediately. And remove Renato′s ashes from his coffin, our Giacomo here will need a place to sleep." Satisfied I saw him pale; the thought of sleeping in a coffin in which the ashes of the previous inhabitant had still been mere hours ago appeared to have the wanted effect on him. With a little luck he would take the hint and not present any trouble. Isabella bowed, her eyes dancing from his face to mine, filled with joy now. I would have to do something about this, such clearly visible signs of affection for a mere messenger weren′t appropriate for my assistant. Opening the door, she left, Jacques following her, hurrying to get away from me.

I put the letter on my desk, not opening it yet. This Eleni amazed me; she had to be a rather self-confident being. Sending messages was a privilege of the Coven Master, and these unwritten rules were hardly ever disobeyed. That she had done it meant that she was either brave or foolish, for the punishments were strict for these offenses. Amadeo should have noticed that she was corresponding with other vampires. Sighing, I wished that she could be in my Coven and not in the Paris flock. It was a shame to waste good material, and I doubted that Amadeo would use her talents.

The question that remained still was why she should send a letter to me. There was no possibility that we had ever met, so there was no reason for her to contact me, the leader of another coven. Amadeo would have been the logical choice for her, she should have spoken to him about whatever she wanted. Unless what she had to say was not for him to know, of course.

Was there a conspiracy among the Paris Children of Darkness? I didn′t believe that, the coven had always been one of the stablest and safest. Compared to Rome, where new ideas and new ways appeared every week, Paris was extremely conservative. To a master who knew the old laws as well as Amadeo, it could not possibly present a problem. Still there had to be something that was kept a secret, and somehow they - whoever they were, for I was sure that Eleni was not alone in whatever she did, or she would have been foolish indeed - had decided to involve me. Strange, most strange.

Maybe Allesandra had something to do with it. My poor Allesandra, had she really gone mad? It was hard to believe, she had always been rational, even though sometimes stuck in old faiths. Never had she let her emotions and beliefs control her, always reasonable, a person I could rely on. Why should she go insane now? She was so old already, older than any other vampire I had ever known. For as long as I could remember, she had been there, a constant in my life. Never had I thought that there would be times without her; that she might go mad was something I had never believed. In my memories she was so sober, so intelligent. But if Amadeo said that she was non compos mentis anymore, it was certainly true. He had never erred, or lied to me. His opinion could be trusted; but this time I wished he would be proved wrong.

She was probably dead by now.

Amadeo knew that he had to lead the old, deranged ones into the fire. Knew that this was his duty; I had taught him this, while Alessandra had been sitting next to me... and now she had fallen victim to the rules, to the laws we had created together, the laws that had been revolutionary when we had introduced them to the coven. The Revolution kills her children.

We had been so similar, two minds with the same ideas, the same goals. Madness had been something we didn′t expect to strike at us, we had considered ourselves too rational, too intelligent. I had always believed that she and I would last through the ages, that we would not go the way of the others. But she had finally become one of countless vampires who lasted a few centuries before their life was to be ended. Would this happen to me as well? Would I too become one of the mindless old ones?

Never,_ never_ had I thought about this possibility. If it happened, the coven would kill me, of course, they knew that they had to do this if they were sure that the master had gone mad. Hadn′t the Parisian flock done the very same thing before Allesandra had gone to govern them, and taken Amadeo with her? They would probably not hesitate to force me into the fire, for the Master was only feared and respected, but never loved. I could effortlessly think of some who would not mourn my death at all. There would be some theatrical sadness, of course, but that would soon be over. I realized that there was not a single vampire in the coven who would not be glad when I met my end.

What if they heard of Allesandra′s madness? She had been the one vampire older than me, apart from the Children of the Millennia, who were considered insane anyway. And now she had been forced into the fire. What if they realized that insanity could serve as a reason to kill me? I couldn′t imagine that they would hesitate a second if they thought of this. The only thing that would keep them from liquidating me would be the resulting power struggles. I knew that there were a few in my flock who considered themselves worthy successors; especially Isabella was regarded as the logical choice for the future ruler. But no matter who would annihilate me, the outcome would be fights for the power. And as long as they dreaded this more than they wished me dead, I was safe.

Not a very assuring position, when I thought about it.

I sat down, lighted another candle - I liked the smell of beeswax, it always reminded me of great churches - and read the letter. Eleni′s handwriting was old-fashioned, and her style simple, but it was a great comfort to read a letter that was not full of humble phrases.

_Monsieur,_

_this I write to you on behalf of Our Old Mother. Many of our flock say that she has gone mad, and that she should be lead into the bonfires. But she herself claims to be in perfect health. This is what has kept Our Master from burning her. She has come to me and told me to write this letter to you, which I would not do if it was not for her. I know that it is against the rules, and that I deserve severe punishment for breaking them. But Our Old Mother says that I must not worry about it. She also says that you must not tell Our Master of it._

I stopped after reading those few lines; Eleni had said so much without knowing it! What a relief it was to read that Allesandra, for the Old Mother could only be her, was still alive! Apparently her power over Amadeo was greater than I had thought; if another vampire had been supposed to be mad, he would have been burned immediately, no matter how much he denied his insanity.

_She says that she has seen the errors in the Old Ways, things I cannot bring myself to write for I will surely burn in Hell if I do. The Devil′s Road is the term she uses to describe them, and she says that you will know what she means. She repeats over and over that we should walk it. It disturbs Our Master greatly when she says these things, and he tries to silence her. I fear that she has truly gone mad. It will only be a matter of time until Our Master sends her into the fire. He says that it might pass. But I think he does not believe it. _

_She also says that the one who brings this letter to you is ambitious. She says he has the strength to lead, and that you must take care of him._

The letter was not signed, which was common for written communication among our kind. I hid it among the other papers that had accumulated on my desk; the next time I went to hunt I would dispose of it in the Tiber.

So Allesandra was still alive. Maybe mad, but alive. Closing my eyes, I leaned back in my chair, allowing myself a few moments of relief to hear that she had not turned into ashes by now. Amadeo was apparently still dependent on her, or he would not have hesitated to lead her into the fire.

This could become a problem, I realized, if he did not want to see that her advise and suggestions could not be trusted anymore. He had never learned to lead his group alone, he had been trained to serve as a facade for Allesandra. Now he would have to take over, I could not simply replace him without having a plausible reason. And I knew that he could not do it. Never had I taught him the little tricks that were necessary to stay in power and alive, he would probably not survive the next year. Why did this have to happen now, when I had not one in my coven I could send to Paris when he was gone? I would lose my influence on the city, and also on the rest of France. Allesandra, why did this have to happen now? Why couldn′t you wait for a few more years to walk the Devil′s Road?

The Devil′s Road. She had used this term to describe progress, modernization, but this was the first time that she used it in a positive sense. Whenever we had talked about it, she had insisted that changes could only mean downfall, had dismissed revolutionary ideas as potentially dangerous. And now she suddenly tried to convert her coven to the new ways. I had never expected to hear something like that from her; she had always been of the opinion that changes were for other people.

I assumed that Amadeo had continued to govern the coven according to the old rules I had taught him two centuries ago. It was hard to understand that they had not at all adapted to the new times, something my flock had done automatically. Paris was a cultural center, that the coven had retreated so far from the mortal world around them was unusual. Groups in cities as reactionary and at the same time revolutionary as Paris, like Vienna or London, had changed their ways without any problems, even though their leaders had hardly Amadeo′s experience. Had he become too good for the game? He knew all the rules, every inch of the terrain, and still, or maybe because of that, he was lost.

Lost in a game he knew too well, the game of power and influence we all played, with our lives at stake. There was no such thing as a second place, it was all or nothing. And if you lost, it was over. Forever.

And the winner was trapped in the game, had no possibility to escape. In the end, he had lost as well. There were no winners in this game, only losers who struggled longer than others. I had struggled for 350 years; maybe it was finally time to let go.


End file.
